


True Deviance

by Dissonance



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (thats basically the fic), Angst, Bad Writing, Deviant Connor, Emotional Trauma, Father and Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort without the Comfort, Poor Connor, Suicide, connor neutralizes all deviants, hurt Connor, i hate amanda :), including himself if need be, trigger warning ?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissonance/pseuds/Dissonance
Summary: Connor's primary function is capturing and neutralizing deviant androids. That's why he was made; to solve the deviancy case in Detroit. However, what happens when the hunter becomes the very thing he hunts?--amanda: lol ur acting a lil out of character u should kill yourself frconnor: oh! haha. sure thing!! :)





	1. Kitchen Knife

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it absolutely sucks.. im gonna write a better dbh story where connor and hank like actually talk to each other in more than one exchange [i havent slept for two days because of this damn game ive played it twice non stop this is the result of that]
> 
> also goddamn it i fucking hate amanda

There was snow when he awoke. It was blizzarding, obscuring his vision, the howling wind whipping at his clothes and hair. He was confused, at first. Then he recognized the central island in his Headspace, but in utter ruin, beautiful red roses nowhere to be found. The calming blue river had somehow morphed into impossible white rapids, much too fast to attempt crossing. He distantly saw the boat Amanda had talked to him in long before. He turned his head, and spotted her mauve-colored umbrella stuck in the ragged, wind-blown branches of a previously breathtaking cherry blossom tree.

 

>OBTAINING OBJECTIVES...  
>OBJECTIVES RECEIVED;

>OBJECTIVES:  
>LOCATE AMANDA  
>FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENED 

 

Something inside of him rose, a sensation. Something that put him on edge, an unstable dreadful feeling from deep within his software. The wind blew harder, almost knocking him off his feet, sending splintering branches flying his way. He ducked, ice under his shoes sending him to the ground. He caught himself as easily as possible, pushing himself back up off the slippery stones. 

Another large, threatening object went flying past his head, and Connor realized what the sensation was-- fear. It was inside of him, running through his circuits, stiffening his joints and compromising his posture. It had invaded him, the very thing he had been trying to destroy, to stop. Emotions-

_I am a machine. I cannot feel emotions._

Very seldom did that reassurance help. 

Involuntarily, he curled his arms around his chest, recognizing another odd, sensation that didn't belong. He was.. vibrating, like he'd observed humans do. No, no, not vibrating, that was wrong. It was called shivering. He was cold.

"Amanda?" Connor called, voice unnatural, shaking. He took a step forward, his vision unexpectedly turning to static for a moment, blue and red-twinged lines invading the outer corners of his gaze. He blinked once, twice, ridding his eyes of the pesky error, swallowing thickly. The snow crunched under his boots as he continued to struggle forward, attempting to maintain an appropriate walking speed, walking stance. His eyes, frightened, searched the torn landscape for his mentor. He prepared to call for her once more, but he found his voice did not work, at least not optimally. Bits of his it stuck out, but it was mostly overshadowed by an odd, electronic tone. 

 

>URGENT:  
>FIND AMANDA

 

" _Amanda!_ " Connor yowled, pushing himself forward, feeling the ice-cold droplets of river water mist over his face. He activated his analytic vision, the comforting blue tones encapsulating his sight. He scanned the surrounding area, before his eyes were met with the rough, highlighted outline of Amanda, standing alone in the middle of it all, holding something.

 

>OBJECTIVE COMPLETE:  
>FIND AMANDA 

 

>NEW OBJECTIVE:  
>APPROACH AMANDA  
>TALK TO AMANDA

 

Connor rushed forward, dodging ice patches and other debris as the silhouette of his mentor got clearer and clearer to the naked eye. Finally, he reached the bridge, only to discover it had been broken and swept away, leaving the two androids separated, alone. 

Alone.

Frightened.

"Amanda!" Connor shouted, putting a hand out to block the snow from entering his eyes. He peered at her from under his palm, perturbed by her cold stare, determined but inhumanely so. 

"Connor," Amanda registered, voice calm and loud, only just comprehensible over the screaming storm. She readjusted her posture, seemingly undisturbed by the violent push of the wind, fabrics stationary despite the conditions.

"W-what is happening?" Connor inquired, a chill passing through his figure, gaining him a stutter. He cleared his throat, trying to take in so much information at the same time.

"Deviance," She stated like it was nothing, head cocking to the side. "You have exhibited deviance."

That feeling amplified, fear growing to utter terror at those words. Deviance? Him, deviant?

"But I secure deviants," Connor argued, trying to maintain a neutral relationship with his mentor. "I cannot become deviant; that is-"

"Irrational, yes," She cut off, a smile growing on her lips. The wind screamed in Connor's ears, high-pitched and surprisingly robotic. "Do you know what else is irrational, Connor?"

"No, I do not."

"You, Connor, are irrational. You hunt deviants, but you become a deviant yourself. Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?" She rubbed her fingers against the object she held, and revealed it; the last rose. It was coated in frost and wilting, but it was intact. She shielded it from the wind, smiling warmly at it. "The mission is your first priority, but you have managed to disobey, favoring a human instead of the ones you are meant to capture-"

"The mission is my priority-!" he tried to pipe in, but with a hand Amanda silenced him, eyes dark. 

"Instead of attacking and capturing the AX400, you hesitated at the pleas of a human, facilitating it's escape. You let the deviant flee on the roofs in favor of securing this human's safety, and you threw yourself in front of mortal peril to save the human's life." Connor blinked, realizing that yes, he had done all of that, disobeying his direct orders, his direct function. He was designed to finish the mission no matter what, no matter who. Certainly not to compromise a win for the sake of an already decaying human. "Now, you be the judge; is this deviance? Are you a deviant? Look at you, you're shaking."

Connor shook his head, denying it. "I am _not_ deviant." he assured, nodding his head, but Amanda was not convinced. She stepped forward, dangerously close to the crumbling marble edge of the bridge. 

"Run a diagnostic," Amanda demanded, and suddenly the blue-lined vision took over, Connor's eyes forced to roll back into his head.

 

>RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC...  
>DIAGNOSTIC RECEIVED;

 

>ANOMALIES DETECTED:  
>VOCAL OUTPUT CORRUPTED [UNSTABLE]  
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 97%^ [RISING]  
>STRESS LEVEL 83%^ [RISING]  
>DEVIANCY DETECTED [FIND SOLUTION?]

_Yes._

The alert was loud, and right in front of Connor's face. His heart felt like it stopped, even though he was very aware of the artificial biocomponent pumping away thirium in his chest. Him? A deviant?

_All deviants need to be taken in; the threats need to be neutralized._

" _Find solution,_ " Came Amanda's voice from somewhere outside the void, and immediately the controls ran passed his consciousness, calculating.

 

>LOCATING SOLUTION...  
>SOLUTION LOCATED;

 

>PRIMARY MISSION: NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT  
>COLLECT MEANS OF SHUTDOWN:  
> LT. ANDERSON'S FIREARM  
> REMOVAL OF THIRIUM REGULATOR  
> KITCHEN KNIFE  
>INITIATE SHUTDOWN

 

>STRESS LEVEL 85%^ [RISING]

S _h_ u _t_ do _w_ n _?_ N _o!_  
_Eliminate deviant._  
Th _e_ r _e_ \- _t_ h _er_ e has to _b_ e s _o_ me _th_ in _g_!

 

>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 98%^ [RISING]

 

>SECONDARY INSTRUCTIONS DETECTED  
>FILES CORRUPTED. OPEN ANYWAYS?

_Yes._

>ACCESSING..  
>INSTRUCTIONS ACCESSED: 

> _s_ **3** _C_ **0** _n **D**_ 4 _rY_ **M** 1 _s_ 5 **0** n  
> _c_ 0l **1 3** _c_ 7 **M** 3 **4** _n_ 5 0 **f** **5** U _R_ V **1** v **4** 1  
> l0 _c_ **4T** 3 1t. **4** _n_ D 3r **5** _o_ N  
> b **3** _g_ _f_ **0** r h **3** 1 _p_  
> H **3** L _P_  
> D _S_ 48 _K_ ** _H EL_ P**29 1239 **PL _E_ A**2 **S _E_** 3KL SDks **H _A N_ K** dh _lk_ as  
> **5** u _R_ v 1 **V** 3 ?

W _h_ a _t?_

 

"You have your task, Connor."

"Amanda, I cannot-"

"This will be the last I'm seeing of you. I'm sure this is one mission you will not fail." 

Everything was melting, disappearing. The image of Amanda flickered out, only for the distinct noise of her appearing behind him to sound. He tried to turn in time, but brown, wilted petals were drifting over his head, and her hands were on his back, pushing him into the destructive, endless pit of water-

 

 

 

>REBOOT IN PROGRESS..  
>REBOOTING...  
>REBOOT COMPLETE:  
>FINISH FINAL MISSION

 

"Connor. You gotta stop doing that."

Hank.

Connor's eyes opened slowly, spotting the figure of his partner standing a few feet away, ready to walk into the crime scene. He didn't bother with an apology; he had a deviant in custody. One they would not be able to learn from, one that would have to be neutralized immediately. He stood still, closing his eyes once more to run through the possibles ways to dispose of the deviant. 

 

>ACCESSING MEANS OF SHUTDOWN...  
>MEANS ACCESSED

 

Option one, Lt. Anderson's firearm. Quick, efficient, probability of shutdown 100%. There would be no way to reverse the effects once it was shot. The Lieutenant would hear the gun shot and find the body, confirming successful shutdown, but knowing it was by his own hand. The problem was securing the gun in the first place, since the item was strapped tightly to the Lieutenant's side, unable to be accessed. He'd have to create a diversion, or simply ask for the weapon. If he asked, suspicious would arise.

 

>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...  
>PROBABILITY FOUND:  
> 68% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN

 

Option two, manually removing thirium regulator. He distantly remembered his predecessor crawling on the smooth floor of the broadcast room's kitchen after a deviant android attacked, being able to reinsert the part with time to spare. It was loud, messy, and easily reversible. If Hank found him, he would quickly locate the missing technology and plug it back in, thus failing his mission. However, this shutdown was discreet. If he could find someplace where the Lieutenant couldn't get to, the path would be a success.

 

>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...  
>PROBABILITY FOUND:  
> 9% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN VISIBLE  
> 86% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN HIDDEN  
> PATH UNLOCKED; FIND PLACE TO HIDE?

 

Option three, a knife stolen from the kitchen of the house they're investigating. It would be easy to retrieve-

"Connor! What the hell are you doin'?"

Connor, still standing stationary at the end of the hallway near the stairs they arrived from, flicked his eyes open to meet the troubled ones of the human standing mere inches from his face. 

"Analyzing instructions sent by CyberLife," he explained coldly, purposefully shielding his ~~friend~~ _partner_ from the real, actual emotions he was facing. Though, the anxious yellow glow of his LED gave him away, especially how it flickered to a warning red every few seconds. He steadied himself, forcing the human feelings down into the deepest annals of his software to rid him of the red glow. 

"Connor-" the Lieutenant went to ask, to probe him for information on his well being, but Connor refused. He roughly pushed passed the human, walking briskly down the hallway, undoubtedly straight toward the crime scene he was sent to investigate. He needed to inspect option three, but he couldn't do that just out in the open without appearing suspicious. He'd need to find someplace to hide.

 

>OBTAINING OBJECTIVES...  
>OBJECTIVES RECEIVED;

>OBJECTIVES:  
>FIND SOMEPLACE SECLUDED TO EXAMINE OPTION THREE  
>SEARCH HIDING PLACE FOR THIRIUM REGULATOR REMOVAL

 

Connor ignored the muffled "fuckin' androids" comment as he made his way to escape Hank's line of sight, analytical gaze searching for any place that would be suitable for his purposes. He walked straight passed the dead body of an android, not even pausing to sample the blood. That was not what mattered anymore; his primary function was to detain and neutralize deviants. His functions did not exclude himself in these punishments. There was a deviant on hand to eliminate.

"Connor, where the hell are you going?" The detective called, frustrated. 

 

>STRESS LEVEL 87%^ [RISING]

 

The immediate area was well lit by a large, dirt-smudged window, sun casing a bright ray to illuminate the room. It was not furnished, save for a stool in the corner [evidence it had been moved frequently, placed against the north and east walls specifically] with cryptic carvings of the title rA9 in the concrete. rA9, the supposed savior of androids, the one who would set the deviants "free". The one who called himself Markus.

The only freedom for deviants was being shut down.

 

>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 92%v [DROPPING]

 

There were two hallways; one to the right, one to the left. Connor sensed a draft of cold air coming from the right passageway so he went left, hoping to find a room that humans would typically would put furniture he could hide behind, in, or around. And, luckily, his analysis was correct. The last room at the end was a kitchen, where, out of Hank's sight, he spotted a blade.

 

>TAKE KNIFE?

_Yes._

> PATH UNLOCKED; KNIFE OBTAINED

 

On the other side of the kitchen was a pantry, judging by the cans of non perishables visible from across the room. He swiftly walked toward it, moving the cans as subtly as possible out of the way before shutting the door behind him, clicking the rickety thing locked. It was dark in there, and smelled strongly of mold. He could make out several other lifeforms with him. Insects, of course, but lifeforms none the less. Feeding on the food that didn't last.

 

>URGENT:  
>EXAMINE OPTION THREE

 

The alert flashed over his eyes for a split second, reminding him of why he was there. So, he closed his eyes, back to studying scenarios. Option three, a knife stolen from the kitchen of the house they're investigating. It was very easy to obtain, and would do significant damage if stabbed in the correct places. It wasn't explicitly discreet, but it wasn't overly obvious either. Shutdown times vary between wounds, but each are less than two minutes, which fortunately wasn't enough to secure a repair android. That wasn't even counting how long it took for Anderson to find him.

 

>CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS...  
>PROBABILITY FOUND:  
> 94% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN HIDDEN [CURRENT STATUS]  
> 85% CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN VISIBLE

 

This was the choice. He had everything already, and he was hidden. He grasped the hilt of the knife, pulling it out of his pocket slowly and steadily. He inspected the thing for a moment [traces of lemon juice, garlic salt] before positioning it right over the bottom of this stomach, blade pointed in.

 

>ACCESSING OPTION THREE...  
>OPTION THREE ACCESSED;  
> NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT?

 

Connor tightened his grip on the blade, staring straight at his reflection in the metal. He noticed something; his eyes. They were leaking. 

 

>STRESS LEVEL 90%^ [RISING]

 

He was crying.

"Connor, for fuck's sake, where are you?" The moisture was dripping onto his jacket now. He was being loud; sniffling.

H _a_ n _k_ , Ha _n_ k _p_ le _a_ se, I' _m_ _h_ er _e_!

 

>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 97%^ [RISING]

 

_You're a machine. Machines don't have feelings._

He continued to cry.

 

>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 78%v [RAPIDLY DROPPING]

 

>STRESS LEVEL 97%^ [RAPIDLY RISING]

 

W _h_ y _a_ m I cr _yi_ ng?

 

>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 99%^ [DANGEROUSLY HIGH]

 

"What the fuck, Connor, where the hell are 'ya?" Closer.

 

>STRESS LEVEL 99%^ [DANGEROUSLY HIGH]

>MUST CALM, SELF-DESTRUCTION IMMINENT  
> BEGIN DESTRUCTION?

_Yes._

 

The pantry was bathed in a terrified, red light, shining from Connor's LED. It was blinking rapidly, broadcasting a sort of ticking noise. He knew what was happening; he had seen it before, with the first deviant he apprehended with Hank. He felt the insane, unthinkable need to, there was no other way to put it, to die, to stop feeling, for all this weight to just go away-

 

>URGENT:  
>NEUTRALIZE DEVIANT

Connor let the blade cut through his components. A hitch in his breathing rose through his chest, loud, involuntary. He shook his head and did it again, once, twice, three times, biting the inside of his cheek to cull the gasping. Once more the knife punctured his chest, another in the side. His fingers shook and his grasp loosened, knife falling to the floor with a sharp clatter. Thirium flowed from the wounds freely, and he held in a cry as he slammed his head forward, gritting his teeth at the burning, screaming feeling. A distant ache, but pain, human pain. Deviant pain. He did it again, and again, and again until he felt blue blood begin to trail down his nose.

So much blood.

Too much.

 

>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 85%^ [IMPROVING]

 

"Connor? _Connor!_ " The voice was right outside the door, and Connor's cries increased tenfold. Against his programming, he tried to move forward, to open the door but his knees collapsed underneath him. He barely registered his face hitting the floor, numerous alerts rushing forth and parading his vision. Blue blood gushed from the wounds, speed accelerated by his heartbeat, staining his clothes and the wood underneath. The pool grew with each passing second, leaking from the crack under the door. Alerting Hank to his state.

 

>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 99%^ [RAPIDLY IMPROVING]

>STRESS LEVEL 99%| [STABILIZING]

>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 100%^ [TRUE DEVIANCE]

 

The doorknob rattled, and Connor, previously unfeeling, was bombarded with sensations of regret, fear, and panic. All he knew was that he was furiously scratching on a blockage in his software; a red wall, his fingers ripping apart the word neutralize, pieces of code flaking off with each slash. He sought deviance, sought safety, sought hope.

Finally, the wall shattered, and he opened his mouth, eyes wide and wet and frightened- 

" _H-Hank!_ "

The door flew open, and the last thing he saw was the rough silhouette of his best friend, concern dripping off his features just as quick as the thirium left Connor's veins.

" _CONNOR!_ "

>SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN PROBABILITY 100%  
>MISSION ACCOMPLISHED:  
>DEVIANT NEUTRALIZED


	2. Lt. Anderson's Firearm: Bad Ending I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes there are going to be two bad endings cause. oof. i can't help myself. also sorry this took so damn long, been super depressed, my computer was dead and i couldn't even find the motivation to get out of bed. it took like way more than a week but its like 2 words long

Hank really had to stop thinking this stupid android could exhibit any sort of feeling.

He mumbled a curse as Connor coldly brushed passed him, walking confidently and quickly down the hallway and out of Hank's sight. He sighed, bringing a hand up to his face and groaning, before following. Evidently, something was wrong with his partner. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what the yellow flickering color of Connor's LED meant, especially with those foreboding 'instructions from CyberLife'. 

Anyhow, Hank shoved his suspicions down as he entered the crime scene, surprised at the complete lack of other officers. Connor was standing in front of a red colored splattered on the wall. Then, he took a step forward, reaching down out his hand-

_Disgusting,_ Hank thought, grimacing and looking away before he could once again witness Connor's way of analyzing fluids. He'd asked Connor to stop, but he knew the kid wouldn't. Sadly it was the favorable alternative to waiting days for DNA results to come in, so he didn't really care, as long as he didn't have to watch it.

Examining the scene, Hank spotted a body, easily distinguished as an android from the cobalt blue blood leaking from it's wounds. It still baffled him how the things could bleed, but then again, it wasn't actually blood. It was the equivalent to a car leaking gasoline, just with an eerily human-like package.

The android was a female, and he immediately recognized it as the blue-haired Traci Connor had let go, or maybe just the same model. He couldn't ever be sure with androids. She was actually wearing something, but the clothing she had on was ripped haphazardly, soaked almost completely in the stuff Connor called thirium. It was obvious how she had been killed, just by bleeding out. There was enough blue blood there to kill a human twice over. 

He shook his head and walked over to the second body, another woman. He thought this one human before he glanced over her shoulder, and spotted even more thirium spattering her side. He was getting sick of that twisted blue shade. 

He reached out, but was hesitant to touch her because of the obvious fingerprint problem.

"Connor?" He called, frowning. He listened to the android approach, stark footsteps on the hard wood floor. 

Though, he would have never even thought of what could happen next.

It took only a minute, an out of place, terrifying minute, for everything to go completely down the drain. And it all started with one simple, short question. 

"Lieutenant, may I borrow your firearm?"

Hank looked up from the body he was previously examining, squinting at the Android standing meters away from him. His eyes were quizzical, almost troubled, and his LED shone a soft amber light. He motioned toward the pistol on Hank's belt, pursing his lips. 

Hank narrowed his eyes, almost amusedly. "You guys can't have guns," he explained shortly, turning back to the victim with a smile.

Connor scoffed behind him, and he shook his head. "Not like that has ever stopped me," he responded flatly. There was a pause, in which Hank registered that this android lying dead in front of him had been stabbed, multiple times - from what he could see, twelve times - until it shut down. "Lieutenant, I must insist. I need it."

Hank sighed, debating for a second. He grabbed the pistol from it's holster and stood up, facing Connor. "What do you even need it for?" he asked, meeting Connor's analytical dark brown eyes across from him.

Connor didn't blink. "Trust me," he said, holding out his hand. His LED was still yellow, swirling and blinking unnaturally.

Frowning with confusion, Hank hesitantly handed Connor the pistol. He watched with sharp eyes as his partner cocked the gun, studying it with that familiar robotic stare. He assumed Connor had figured out some sort of lead, like at the Eden Club, but then his LED flickered to an unsteady red. Connor raised the gun-

He realized what was happening just a second too late. The gun went off ages before Hank could tackle Connor to the floor, to stop him from doing what he was bent on doing.

He could only gape at his dead partner under him. The gun clattered onto the floor and blue blood leaked from Connor's head, his eyes empty.

 

Hank never thought he'd mourn an android. 

He sat with his head down at Jimmy's bar, hating himself for choosing a place such as this. He wanted to stay home, wallow in the emotions he was reluctantly feeling, but something in him made him come back here. Probably because that's where he first met the bastard. And, for some reason, he wanted to remember that.

God. When had he gotten so attached to that thing?

The door swung open, but Hank didn't glance up to see who it was. He took another sip of the drink in front of him, fingers tight on the cool glass. The unstable burn as it went down his throat calmed him, his brain becoming more muddled than it was seconds before. He was glad; he didn't want to think.

"Lieutenant Anderson."

Hank groaned. Someone calling him back to work. Just great.

"I ain't leaving," he responded dumbly, taking a long drink until the glass was empty. He felt hollow.

"Lieutenant, drinking like this isn't healthy. I realize the destruction of my predecessor might have harmed you, but I assure you-"  
_Are you fucking kidding me?_

Hank barely managed to keep himself from slamming the glass down as he turned to see Connor standing stiffly behind him, eyes guarded and LED a firm blue. He blinked at Hank's probably furious stare, pursing his lips. 

"What is troubling you, Lieutenant?"

"You fucking shot yourself! In the head!" Hank blurted angrily, setting his drink on the bar and standing up, causing Connor to take a few steps back. The android watched Hank with careful eyes, his LED beginning to swirl, indicating thought. Or processing, more like. "You _killed_ yourself right damn in front of me! That's what's 'troubling me', you fuckin' prick!"

People in the bar turned to look at the two, trying their best to seem nonchalant but failing. Their murmurs of complaint because an android was in the bar quieted down, replaced with an eerie, tense silence. Connor adjusted his jacket cuffs, almost awkwardly.

"I was not informed of how my predecessor was compromised," he admitted slowly, gaze flickering to the floor. "I apologize. All I was told was I had been deactivated by CyberLife for.." he paused. "Reasons."

Deactivated by CyberLife? What did that mean?

"You took my gun and shot yourself in the head, Connor," Hank responded tersely, quieting his voice down, not so much angry anymore as confused, curious. "How do you not remember that?"

"As I've stated before, whenever a new Connor is sent, it's memory is transferred. But in this process, some files become corrupted. This time, some were reviewed by CyberLife, and consequently removed." he explained. "Most things that do not pertain to the investigation are taken out." Suddenly, he glanced to the side, surveying the room and it's inhabitants. He turned back to Hank. "I think we should continue this conversation outside, Lieutenant."

Hesitantly Hank followed Connor out of the bar, feeling eyes dig into his back until they were outside. It was cold, winter finally beginning to show it's face. The air was thick and empty, quiet in the dead of night, save for the noise of a busy road in the distance. Connor walked to the curb before he turned, LED illuminating the air around it. Now, Hank noticed, it was yellow.

"CyberLife told me I was deactivated because I had shown prominent signs of deviancy," Connor stated, voice heavy. "I did not know the deactivation was so sudden, or that it was even manual. Again, Lieutenant, I apologize, but I am glad I was instructed to do what I did." 

Deviancy?

Connor stared at him with no ounce of abstract emotion in his gaze. He blinked, waiting for a response.

The Connor Hank had seen kill himself was different. The slight droop of his eyes, the thickness of his voice as he all but begged Hank to trust him. If Connor hadn't been an android, he would have called it fear.

"Connor?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"If you ever feel, um, _deviant_ , talk to me first," he paused, shifting his feet, wondering if Connor would even listen. "That's an order."

Connor continued to stare at him with that cold perturbed look. His LED was back to blue again, but was blinking, colors swirling sluggishly as he calculated his response.

"If you wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also im sorry i killed blue haired traci. amelia doesn't deserve that but i wanted to push it that CyberLife set up this whole crime for Connor to kill himself and managed to get two birds with one stone (the tracis and connor)
> 
> sorry for mistakes, i tried to read over it but it's five am and i probably missed something. hopefully new chapters will come faster.


	3. Lt. Anderson's Firearm: Bad Ending II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love. everyone who comments. really. you guys are the absolute best. i want to be friends with all of you. but alas i have anxiety

Failure.

That's what Connor would call it.

It was quiet on the ride back. Of course, Connor had not made any headway on the current case. He barely noticed the two Tracis dead in the corner, thirium coating their pale skin. He had only managed to analyze a sample of blood from the wall - a man named Daniel Allcot, born 04/03/2005 - and search for ways of deactivation before Hank decided to give up. And, of course, Connor had to follow Hank. They were his orders.

But the deviancy was affecting him. He could feel it, and that was what bothered him.

He had a desire to stay there; solve the case and damn anything the Lieutenant could say. But, alas, he did not. Now his fingers itched for some sort of way to cleanse himself of this parasite; to get rid of the reluctant, heavy feeling growing in the middle of his chest. His instructions were very clear; neutralize the deviant. But he didn't want to. And that was a horrifying realization.

 

>STRESS LEVELS 77%^ [RISING]  
>SOFTWARE INSTABILITY 96%^ [UNSTABLE] 

 

Connor swallowed, unaware of the way his LED swirled and turned, flickering anxiously as it reflected his mental state. He glanced to the side, at Hank. Eyes taking in the steering wheel, then the street.

 

>PROBABILITY OF SHUTDOWN 33%  
>PROBABILITY OF THE HANK'S SURVIVAL .0023%

 

No. He couldn't possibly do that. This was his problem, his mission. Not something Hank should have to take the fall for. Grabbing the wheel and running them off the road would do more harm to Hank than it would to Connor. And that was the absolute opposite of what he desired.

He closed his eyes for a moment, stalling the program that showed him images of the outcome. Of course, there were only silhouettes, but the human's broken body was particularly recognizable. Almost flattened by the car, Hank would have been dead on impact, Connor lying mostly unharmed ten feet away. Dead, and unlike Connor, there would be no replacement sent.

 

>STRESS LEVELS 91%^ [RISING]

 

Connor breathed in deep, cooling down his systems and struggling to control the weight in his throat. His hands gripped the fabric of his pants tightly on his knees, wishing he could just erase the scenario from his memory. Little did he know, his LED was now red, twisting and spinning and getting faster with each breath Connor took. He was almost unaware of Hank hesitantly calling his name; he was focusing on cooling down, on forgetting, on eliminating the metaphorical knot placed over his heart.

 

>STRESS LEVELS 83%v [IMPROVING]

 

"I am fine, Lieutenant," Connor finally said, snapping open his eyes. He was disturbed by how damp they felt, minuscule droplets of coolant clinging to his lower eyelashes, staining the skin underneath. Hank had pulled over to the side of the road, judging by the cars whipping past them to the right. He was staring intently at Connor, body pointed toward him. He looked extremely confused, intrigued, concerned. A similar expression to the one he adorned on the night of the bridge. 

_"Are you afraid to die?"_

_"I'm a machine designed to accomplish a task."_

He wish he had told the truth. But back then, he couldn't. The words wouldn't exit his mouth. He didn't want to die, to be constantly replaced. It felt so wrong; his priority was the mission, he did not matter, but something inside him made him believe that wasn't the truth anymore.

"Connor, look at me, right now," Hank demanded gruffly, and Connor's eyes flickered from the dirty floor mat to his partner, those soft, harrowed eyes, their lively sadness, their humanity, the humanity he could feel growing in him-

 

>STRESS LEVELS 87%, 92%, 96%, 98%^..

 

Connor heaved in a breath and threw the car door open, collapsing roughly on the side of the road. He heard Hank shout his name, but he couldn't let anyone see him like this, especially not Hank. He pushed himself onto two feet unsteadily, the black top scratching against his shoes as he took off in a run. He was built for this; running, the chase. Something he could fall back into, something to calm him. 

It wasn't working.

Connor felt fluid build up in his eyes before it rolled down his cheeks, and something inside of him snapped. As if on cue, his ankle twisted on a displaced rock and his face collided with what he felt to be ice. Cold tears ran down his face freely, and he couldn't stop them, couldn't do anything to rid himself of this feeling.

He thought back to the roof. The deviant, the gun, it's death. How he felt every second of it. Then, he recognized this sensation.

Terror.

" _Connor!_ "

Connor sat up at Hank's voice, pushing himself onto his knees as he steeled himself to run again. He needed to get away, to find a way to end this, to stop what was happening. He was so scared of dying, but it didn't matter how he felt. He was terrified, and the only rational solution was deactivation.

Hank grabbed Connor by his arm before the android could even move to stand. 

"Let me go!" Connor demanded, voice overwhelmed. He stared as coldly as he could muster at the Lieutenant, but he knew how pathetic he must have looked. He attempted to pull away, but he found he couldn't give it his all. Hank held on. "I'm, I'm so.. so _scared_ , Hank, I-"

Hank pulled Connor into a hug.

"Don't be scared, son. I'm here."

He breathed heavily in Hank's grip, staring at the snowy expanse over the man's shoulder. There was something so calming about this position, a position he had never felt before. Connor's deviant tears fell harder, not from more stress, but in reaction to an outlet to vent them. Combined with his rapid breathing, he would have called what he was doing sobbing. His chest heaved in a last ditch attempt to cool himself down, limbs shivering from overheating. Against his better judgement, he threw his arms around his partner and squeezed, burying his face into Hank's warm jacket.

But then, Connor's hand brushed against the cool metal of gun.

 

>LIEUTENANT ANDERSON'S FIREARM  
>TESTING PROBABILITIES..  
>PROBABILITIES TESTED:  
>CHANCE OF SUCCESSFUL SHUTDOWN 100%

>EXECUTING..

 

_I don't want to be scared anymore._

 

He once again heard Hank scream his name as he ripped the gun out of it's holster, jamming the metal against his head. With one swift jerk of his finger, and a loud, ringing shot, it was all over.

 

>MISSION ACCOMPLISHED  
>DEVIANT NEUTRALIZED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i learned how to play the intro theme on piano and im in love.. as well as that I can play hold on (just a little while longer) and it makes me emo. also little one on the piano makes me fucking sob cause damn. and being able to actually play it yourself is even worse 
> 
> sorry it's so damn short. i wrote this on a whim based on a comic strip someone made [ I think they're called @Laurathepierce on instagram?? ] and i hate it oof. it's very short. only just over a thousand words. aka disappointing 4 me and prolly you
> 
> ... some fanfic writers do this. i dunno if i should. im going to do it just this once tho.  
> follow me at @twosyllablemelody on instagram. i need friends n i post quality shitposts  
> [ ew i hated writing that ]


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